


tinker toy soldier

by radovanryn



Series: The Company Man [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Decisions, Ballroom Dancing, Canon Era, Character Study, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Existential Angst, Gambling, Gen, M/M, Rare Characters, Secrets, Threats of Violence, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21919999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radovanryn/pseuds/radovanryn
Summary: Nobody. Assassin. Secret weapon. Ten years is a long time, and change was inevitable. An Axel character study, told from the perspective of his fellow Organization members. [Complete, background AkuSai, LeaIsa implied.]
Relationships: Axel/Marluxia (Kingdom Hearts), Axel/Saïx (Kingdom Hearts), Isa/Lea (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: The Company Man [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563040
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	1. object agency [lexaeus]

**Author's Note:**

> This story arc is part of my ongoing "Company Man" series, and each chapter features Axel with a different adult member of Organization XIII. This storyline is told in five parts from when Axel was approx. 17 years old (2 years post-BBS) to the moment he decides to kidnap Kairi in KH2.

Axel… drifted. Like a ghost, he haunted the labyrinthian halls of the Castle that Never Was long after its denizens had returned from their missions and retired to their rooms. Sleep, like emotions, evaded the Organization’s newest member. If Axel felt at all, it was unmoored, untethered, just all-around  _ lost _ .

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He and Isa meant to rescue X, maybe discover a hidden treasure or two lurking deep in the castle vaults. It never occurred to them— _not once_ —that they’d be caught and taken prisoner, pulled apart and haphazardly stitched back together like broken tinker-toy soldiers.

Heavy footfalls. Axel wasn’t as alone as he thought. By the time Lexaeus’s massive form turned the corner, Number Eight forced himself to smirk mischievously, a mimicry of the dead boy he wasn’t. Isa… no, _Saïx_ was much better at pretending. The older Nobody was thriving, gaining Xemnas’s favor through a series of calculated steps that Axel’d had a hand in, but no control over. _For our objective,_ Saïx assured him, but Axel had been Lea and Saïx had been Isa and Lea _always_ knew when Isa was lying.

“You should be resting.”

Axel rolled his eyes, feigning insolence. “Why? No one said I had a bedtime.” Nobodies didn’t _need_ sleep, after all. Didn’t need to eat, to laugh, to live because they _didn’t exist_.

“You will need your strength for whatever mission you receive tomorrow,” Lexaeus replied. The _mission_ , right. Axel’s missions bled together—literally and figuratively—as the weeks became months became almost a year. Axel struggled to keep up, keep track of how long it had been. Saïx promised they’d find X and get their hearts back, but Axel was starting to wonder why they needed hearts at all. Was starting to forget was it felt like to have a heart in the first place.

Still, Axel could follow the script he’d been given. “Nice of you to be worried,” he snarked, arms crossed and body language shouting petulance. An act. Just muscle memory. “But I get my missions done, same as everyone else.” Axel had the blood-splattered clothes to prove it.

“You will serve your purpose better if you are rested.” Lexaeus had crossed his arms as well, eminently more intimidating than the teenaged Nobody. Too bad Axel _couldn’t_ be intimated anymore. “Why are you out wandering around when you should be resting?”

_ I don’t know.  _ “Because I felt like it, all right?” _I’m lost._ “Could ask you the same question, you know.” _What’s happened to me?_

“I am on guard duty,” Lexaeus replied, unmoved. “That is my purpose. Your role has been made clear to you as well. You would be wise to accept it.”

Axel’s eyes narrowed, a faint flicker of _something_ deep in his chest. There one second, gone the next. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” _Liar._

Lexaeus looked at Axel knowingly. “You are His instrument, His weapon.” With a rumbling sound, Number Five summoned his massive weapon. Lexaeus’s steely blue eyes drifted from Axel towards Skysplitter, held firmly in his grip. “A weapon does not question its master’s demands.” His gaze returned to Axel. “It merely does as it is told to do.”

Axel opened his mouth, but no words came. Despite appearances, this was not a threat. Lexaeus wasn’t a showman, not in this life nor the one before; if he wanted to hurt Axel, he would have done so already. This was a lesson, as well as a reminder for Axel.

After all, he wasn’t _anybody_ anymore. Axel was Xemnas’s assassin, and Saïx’s secret weapon. He didn’t have anything else, not really. His mouth closed, and Axel sighed. It didn’t feel like an act, but then again, it didn’t feel like anything at all.

“Get some rest.” Lexaeus released his axe and—in a rare show of camaraderie—set his massive hand on Axel’s shoulder, a pantomime of solidarity. “Think no more about this.”

With a nod, Axel summoned a dark corridor. He stepped out of the darkness into his own brightly-lit proof. As he laid down, Axel wondered if it was so bad, being nothing more than a pawn in Xemnas and Saïx’s game. After all, why should _he_ care? (He didn’t.) Axel sighed again as he let his eyes shut, relaxing at last as he drifted off.

He wasn’t lost after all. Axel just needed to be pointed in the right direction.


	2. a wolf in sheep's clothing [luxord]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part is set approximately six months-to-one year before KH1, before Marluxia joins the Organization. [AkuSai, _slight_ one-sided AkuLux]

“My friend.” Luxord peered across the table at the wobbly redhead. “I believe you might be drunk.”

“ _Pshh,_ ” Axel slurred, head lolling slightly as he gestured over to Demyx, who had passed out a few minutes earlier. “Me? I’m only a bit tip— tipsy.” He hiccupped. “Demyx’s the drunk one.”

“Indeed,” Luxord chuckled, over-bright sheen to his eyes the only indication that he, too, was under the influence. Since joining the Organization some months earlier—and how that had come to pass, he hadn’t the _foggiest_ idea—Luxord had concluded that it must have been frightfully dull before he and Demyx joined the ranks. He’d taken it upon himself to liven things up a bit, however so far he had precious little to show for his efforts: a paltry four-man poker game, one that included Demyx (what the musician lacked in skill he made up with the most _salacious_ stories Luxord ever had the pleasure of hearing), Xigbar (who played his cards a bit too close to the vest for Luxord’s tastes), and Axel—the wild card.

Axel was far less interested in cards than the _game_ itself. Luxord knew _his_ type all-too-well: a risk-taker, a different sort of gambler than the dealer. Axel bet his existence, or rather _nonexistence_ on a somewhat-regular basis, tracking dirt and blood and woodsmoke all over the pristine walls of the Castle that Never Was. Luxord played a different hand with Axel, enticing him with pilfered liquor and the sort of low-stakes thrills the older Nobody assumed Axel never got to experience for himself.

And as luck would have it, his gamble paid off. Axel was a _loquacious_ drunk.

Xigbar had left for parts unknown some time ago, and clearly Demyx was… indisposed for the evening. With his eyebrow cocked, Luxord decided to go double-or-nothing. “I’ve stashed a bottle of some rather expensive port in my quarters. Would you care for a nightcap?”

“Lead the way,” Axel smirked. Luxord returned the grin. _Looks like I’ve bought the pot_ , he thought as he more-or-less steadily walked to his room, Axel pressed close like an eager paramour. While Luxord did entertain a gentleman every now and again, his preferences tended to run a bit… _older_.

“I’d rather hoped we might talk,” Luxord said as the uncoordinated pair at last arrived at his proof. The blonde noticed Axel’s slightly wounded look, and hoped his honesty hadn’t run the young man off. Perhaps flattery would help sweeten the pot? “You are something of an enigma, Axel.”

His gamble paid off, as Axel appeared to regain his confidence. “Tryin’ to steal my secrets?” he asked, bloodshot green eyes watery with drink. “M’not that interesting.”

“I beg to differ,” Luxord retorted. He gestured toward one of the chairs he’d lifted from some world or another, situated around a smaller card table than the one in the Grey Area. ( _Dreadful name_ , he thought, not for the first time.) While Axel seated himself, Luxord selected one of a number of bottles that lined a small shelf on the farthest wall. He poured two generous tumblers of a fine vintage port, likely older than Axel was, before joining the younger Nobody at the table. “Perhaps you’d enjoy another game?”

“Hmm, think I’ll pass,” Axel said. He took a small sip, and his face scrunched up tellingly; his first port, then. What on _earth_ did the Organization have against the finer things in life, Luxord wondered. “Don’t know how much more I can afford to lose, y’know?”

“Ah, I misspoke. I meant a game of truths and lies.” Luxord savored a small sup, then added, “The rules are simple. One player asks the other a question, and if they are correct the other agrees to answer truthfully. However, if they are mistaken the first player takes a drink.”

Axel nodded, the movement exaggerated with his intoxication. “And the lies?”

Luxord grinned. “A player may lie, but if caught they must finish their entire drink in one go. So, shall we play?” Axel held his glass out in a toast, and as Luxord met him he privately congratulated himself. There was no doubt he’d pull both truths and lies from the younger, and Axel’s inebriation all-but guaranteed he’d forget any of Luxord’s own admissions. He’d stacked the deck in his favor, as usual.

“Can I go first?” Axel asked, unsurprisingly. The man had no patience, but Luxord wasn’t bothered. No harm in burning the first cards. “That thing you do, manipulating time? It’s ‘cause you want to live forever.”

Luxord smirked. “Doesn’t everyone?” Trust Axel to lead with (what he believed was) his ace-in-the-hole. Rather than wait his turn, Axel added, “You’re afraid of death.”

“Isn’t everyone?” Luxord replied. “Although, present circumstances have dulled that fear as of late. Also, it is my turn, and it is only fair that I ask two questions as well.” Axel shrugged and sat back, chair tipped back so he could prop one long leg up against the table. “You’re untouched.”

“Wha—”

“A virgin,” Luxord clarified. When Axel shook his head with a slow grin, Luxord warned, “I wouldn’t suggest lying so early in the game. You might not make it to the end, otherwise.”

“Drink up,” Axel said. The proud flush of his cheeks was proof enough, and it was another truth Luxord sought.

He hoped he’d counted his cards correctly. “I never would have guessed Saïx was one to share.” Axel’s grin faltered, even more as Luxord added, “Unless I’m mistaken?” Sullenly, the redhead took a drink. Luxord had won _this_ hand. He’d suspected Axel was Saïx’s holdout against Xemnas in whatever high-stakes game was playing out in the upper rungs, but Axel acted as if he was willing to throw the game for a bit of… _friendlier_ wages. _Ah,_ the risks one runs when mixing business with pleasure.

“Whatever,” Axel said, eyes slanting away. Luxord watched, eager to see how he’d play the next round. Would Axel up the ante, or hedge his bets? “So, is that your plan? Live forever, to what? End up running this joint?”

Luxord laughed, the sound _almost_ genuine. He missed the calculated spark of interest in Axel’s still-averted eyes. “Perish the thought. What a dreadful waste _that_ would be.” Axel took his drink. It was a push, but Luxord pressed his advantage. “We might be the only ones uninterested in toppling the Organization, wouldn’t you agree?” A pause, then Luxord added, “And Demyx as well.”

Axel rolled his eyes, but took a drink regardless. “Who even _wants_ to know what Xemnas is up to, anyways?” he asked. His gaze was clearer than it had been, Luxord noted. “Enough shop talk. I wanna know—ya got any _other_ piercings that we can’t see?” Luxord ended up taking that shot, not that he minded, and the game continued.

Luxord was on a rush. He hadn’t seen all the players’ cards yet, but he was learning their tells, and Axel was proving himself to be more a sheep than a shark. It simply wasn’t in the redhead’s nature to play any one game for too long, so Luxord let the evening come to its end. “I’m afraid it’s rather late,” he said, following several rounds of inane questions that neither felt compelled to answer dishonestly. “Shall we have one final round?”

“Sounds good.” Axel let his leg drop as he brought his chair to all fours. All trace of emotion faded from him, and when he spoke his tone was low. Threatening. “You think that if you live long enough, eventually everyone’ll forget how you bet on the wrong man. Even you.”

Luxord met Axel’s even stare, thrown off his game. “I haven’t placed any bets yet,” he said, but Axel called his bluff.

“That’s a lie,” the assassin countered. His voice was as sharp as his weapons. “You wouldn’t be here otherwise, am I right? Or,” Axel added, the smallest smirk gracing his features, “don’t you _remember_?”

He’d played his hole card, and left Luxord with no choice but to fold. He finished his wine, a wordless admission. Still, Luxord couldn’t help but be impressed. It had been some time— _he couldn’t remember when_ —since he’d underestimated an opponent so. (In fact, he was certain the last time had been what landed him in his… current predicament.)

“Allow me a final question,” Luxord said, although he already knew the answer. “You’re not at all sloshed, are you?”

Axel kept his deliberate, _steady_ eye-contact as he knocked back the rest of his drink. (Luxord winced despite himself; the man had _no class_ whatsoever.) A drop remained on the corner of his lips until Axel caught it with his index finger, tasting the digit thoughtfully. “I _told_ you, I’m only a bit tipsy.” Axel stood and stretched, various _cracks_ and _pops_ as he arched his back. “What can I say? I burn through things pretty quickly,” he added.

Luxord preferred older men, but he could still appreciate the younger man’s showmanship as he turned to leave the Gambler’s proof. “Let’s do this again sometime. You can’t lie to save your life, ya know?” With a wink, Axel disappeared, consumed by darkness.

_ Bravo _ , Luxord thought, mentally conceding the match as he poured himself another glass. He’d been well and truly played. 


	3. masquerade [marluxia]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part is set shortly after the cutscene between Xigbar and Zexion in KHII, and takes place shortly before 358/2 Days. [Implied AkuSai, slight AkuLuxia.]

“Eleven.” Number Seven— _ Saïx’s _ —voice called from behind him. Marluxia stilled, listening even as he refused to acknowledge his so-called ‘Superior.’ “Lord Xemnas has instructions.”

“Oh?” Marluxia asked, casting a purposefully coy look over his shoulder. “Is that why he sent you? To deliver a message on his behalf?” A lesser man—and most of his colleagues—would have bristled at Marluxia’s thinly-veiled insult, but Saïx was unflinching. Maybe he was truly unmoved, or perhaps he’d simply accepted his role as a glorified messenger. 

It was unbecoming, but not Marluxia’s concern. If Saïx wished to demean himself, so be it; Marluxia had far grander aspirations. 

It was as if Saïx had read his mind. “There has been some discussion regarding your role,” he said. “You are aware that the Organization already has an enforcer—”

“Don’t you mean _assassin_?”

Despite his interruption, Saïx continued without pause. “—and as such your skills might be better suited for another purpose.” 

Marluxia smiled. _Of course_. Once he had begun accepting missions, Marluxia had known he would quickly rise in the ranks as he outclassed his colleagues one by one. 

“However, in this existence nothing is certain,” Saïx added. “And as it happens, Axel has not reported in from his mission for several days. You are to find him and, should he require it, assist him in completing his task.”

It was a tedious assignment, but a logical one. If Axel had failed his mission—or required an extra hand to see it through—then it would be obvious _who_ was redundant in their role. For his sake, Marluxia hoped Axel was merely delayed; Marluxia was no more an _enforcer_ than he was a _messenger_. With that in mind, Marluxia summoned a corridor without further prompting. 

Marluxia emerged to a dark corner in a grand ballroom. Enormous tapestries hung from each wall, and a great chandelier lit the hall, the light of it dazzling against the gold that decorated each fixture. Dozens of exquisitely-dressed men and women congregated throughout the space, some speaking in tight circles, others sampling decadent food and drink from a plethora of trays moving about. However, most had taken to the ballroom floor, twirling and bowing and stepping in a well-choreographed dance. 

As he took it all in, Marluxia thought it might have been prudent to ask Saïx for further details regarding Axel’s mission. However, he dismissed the notion as soon as it occurred to him. The specifics were irrelevant; the mission was Axel’s. The onus of relaying any relevant information fell to him. With confident grace, Marluxia stepped out of the shadows. 

A mirror hanging nearby gave Marluxia pause. Saïx had warned him that the magics that cloaked them in other worlds were adaptable, but he did not expect them to be so _extravagant_. Gone was his hood, replaced by a lacy black _Colombina_ mask, accented by full roses and black peacock feathers. He wore a blood red suit, expertly tailored with embroidered vines patterned across coat and pants. There was a final, most curious detail: a simple silver bracelet encircled his right wrist. A small charm, fashioned in the likeness of a key, dangled off its clasp.

There was precious little Marluxia remembered from _before_ , however the setting felt oddly familiar, like something out of a half-forgotten dream. If nothing else, he felt at ease as he weaved and charmed his way through the crowd, on the lookout for his erstwhile colleague. Among the Organization’s members, Axel was one its more enigmatic figures. His missions were often long, drawn-out affairs that kept him away from the Castle for weeks at a time. As such, Marluxia’s dealings with Axel were limited, however such an opulent scene did not seem suited for the fiery redhead. 

Marluxia felt a hand brush against his arm. He turned, and saw a thin wrist draped with the same key-bracelet he wore. Marluxia glanced up, and found himself face-to-face with his target.

It was no wonder Axel had slipped his notice. With his typically-unruly hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, Axel looked entirely different. Or perhaps it was that Marluxia was unaccustomed to seeing the younger Nobody dressed in something other than his Organization getup. The jacket was long and fitted, tailored to accentuate the curve of his waist, the look highlighted by the deep red corset he wore underneath. The buttons were shades of black and gold, and his trousers were cut to emphasize his long, slender legs. His Organization boots complemented the outfit well, but the focal point of the costume was Axel’s mask. It was a shimmering blend of gold and red, with delicate curling lines like flames painted across it. A decorative extension crept over and above the right eye: a stylized version of the Nobody emblem. 

“I’d ask what brings you here, but I think I already know the answer. Saïx is keeping tabs on me, is that it?” Axel asked. He sounded as if he found the idea humorous. “Likin’ the look, by the way. Suits you.” As if Marluxia was not already aware of _that_.

“Your delay has caused some consternation among the other members,” Marluxia said. “Xemnas—”

“ _Lord_ Xemnas,” Axel interrupted. At Marluxia’s odd look, the assassin leaned forward to whisper, “This crowd is big on ‘lords’ and ‘ladies'. Got it memorized? The title’s just a part of the act.”

Marluxia frowned, not at all convinced, but decided not to press the issue. “Very well. _Lord Xemnas_ sent me to report on your mission, and to provide assistance if necessary.”

“Wha— _ugh_ , come here!” Despite his frustrated tone, Axel gently took Marluxia by the arm and led him to a mostly secluded corner. _Mostly_ , although Marluxia doubted the couples sharing the small space were paying attention to anything beyond their own debauchery. 

Suddenly, Axel’s body was pressed flush against Marluxia, their cheeks brushing as Axel said, “Ever heard of _blending in_? On this world, for these people? ‘Missions’ are what you hire other people to do. People who don’t belong at fancy balls, got it—”

“Memorized, yes. I do.” That was _twice_ now Axel had felt the need to correct him. “Although I doubt your paranoia is warranted. No one has so much as looked in our direction.”

Axel chuckled, and Marluxia felt its low resonance in his own chest. “Don’t tell me you think we’re the only intruders here. Probably half of this room is actively trying to off the other half.” Axel traced his fingers lightly along the black ribbon securing Marluxia’s mask. “Why else would anyone host a masquerade in the middle of a revolution?”

Axel was testing his patience. “Then shall we take this conversation elsewhere?” Marluxia asked. It was becoming clear to him _why_ Axel had taken so long to complete his assignment. If the younger Nobody had just been direct with him, Marluxia might have already returned to the castle.

“You know, I was just thinking that myself,” Axel replied. However, rather than open a dark corridor, Axel took Marluxia’s hand and brought him to the ballroom floor. It took impressive effort for Marluxia to resist scowling as Axel guided him into position. “I’ll lead,” Axel murmured, his hands searing where they held him. “This is _my_ show, after all. Hope you’re a quick learner.” 

The music began, and so too, the dance. Marluxia could not recall ever _learning_ this particular dance, however his muscle memory guided him through the first steps and turns gracefully. More surprising still was how well Axel danced. 

His astonishment must have been evident. “What? Not what you expected?” Axel smirked, although it did not reach his eyes. “Nine years is a _long_ time. Let’s just say hobbies don’t hold my interest like they used to.”

Before Marluxia could ask Axel what he meant ( _nine years? hobbies?_ ), the assassin switched topics. “But enough about me. _You’re_ the new guy, after all.” As they turned, Axel lifted Marluxia, once again surprising the older man. It appeared Axel had hidden strength as well as skills. “What’s your story?”

“Don’t you want to guess?” Marluxia asked, however not out of any genuine curiosity or desire for Axel to do so. Right or wrong, he would not divulge any secrets. Axel had not earned the privilege to know him in such a manner. (None of them had.)

Yet Axel was undeterred. “Perhaps I will,” he said. The song changed, and with it the tempo. Their pace quickened. “To be a Nobody, your Somebody must have had a strong heart and an even stronger will.” From behind his mask, Axel’s ivy-green eyes glinted. “Our Lord gave you a role— _my role_ —but to be honest, hiding in the shadows doesn’t seem like your style. I think you want to _lead_.”

“How insightful.” Marluxia spun, and used the opportunity to backlead Axel into a twirl, seizing control from his partner. Axel handled the role reversal deftly, as if he did not mind following. Marluxia wondered if it was that lack of ambition, the desire for dominance, that made Axel so subservient to Xemnas and Saïx.

“I catch on quick,” Axel replied. “Tell ya what. I’ll put in a good word for you, just as soon as I make it back.” Marluxia hummed noncommittally as they completed a complex figure. It would be foolish to trust Axel, but perhaps, in time, Axel could prove himself a useful ally—depending on how deep his loyalties ran. (And for _whom_.)

Their dance had attracted several onlookers. This time, it was Marluxia who came close. “We are being watched.”

“Of course we are.” As he spoke, Axel pulled Marluxia’s hand around his waist until his fingers dipped into the small of his back. Or rather, they _would_ have were it not for the blade Marluxia could feel, disguised as part of the corset. “They never see me coming,” Axel whispered, his breath hot against Marluxia’s cheek. “I wonder why that is.”

As suddenly as Axel had led them into the dance, he pulled them from it, back to the same dark corner from before. “Two days from now, the guy hosting this little soirée is supposed to meet the leaders of the opposition to negotiate a ceasefire. But _someone_ is going to make sure they don’t make it.” Axel positioned them so that any casual observer would think they’d stolen away to satisfy some sort of carnal desires. Marluxia still held the hilt of the blade against Axel’s back. His skin was still so, _so_ warm. “The thing is, the guy who does it? He’s sloppy. Not enough to get caught, but plenty of people are gonna see him do it.” Axel’s eyes shone despite the darkness. “And they’ll remember _me_. Here. With _you_. The belle of the traitor’s ball.”

“Success masked as failure,” Marluxia said. “How clever.”

“I try.” When Axel smiled, it was sharp. Remorseless. “There’s your report. Tell Lord Xemnas the task is nearly complete. Give it a week, ten days tops before this world falls to darkness.”

Marluxia nodded, however just as he made to open a corridor Axel added, “Oh, one last thing. I have a message for Saïx.” Before Marluxia could scoff that _he_ was no message boy, Axel took him by the chin and pulled him forward until his lips were pressed against the assassin’s. 

Never one to be outdone, Marluxia deepened the kiss. As with the dance, he took the lead from Axel, tracing his tongue across the seam of Axel’s lips until he was granted access. Axel’s hand slid from his chin to cup Marluxia’s jaw, the redhead giving a throaty groan as Marluxia tasted him. In the corner of his eye, Marluxia spotted the odd silver bracelet again, and smelled woodsmoke.

It was the first kiss Marluxia had received in his new existence, and it was… serviceable. (He might go so far as to say he enjoyed it, if only to himself.) As they parted, Axel licked his lips thoughtfully.

“Don’t forget my message.”

Axel did not wait for his reply, instead disappearing into the crowd just as quickly as he had appeared. Marluxia watched him leave, eyes narrowed in thought as his lips continued to tingle. Perhaps there was more to Axel than first impressions would suggest? If so, then he could prove useful. Someday.

The darkness swelled around Marluxia, swiftly replaced by too-bright lights and empty, echoing halls. His leather coat felt constricting after satin finery, and his wrist felt oddly bare. Marluxia breathed deeply, and let the strange sensation pass. 

“Eleven.” How exciting; Marluxia had no idea Nobodies could experience _déjà vu_. Saïx was in the same position he had been when Marluxia left. “Did you find Axel?” _Oh,_ but he did _._ Marluxia smirked, which had Saïx frowning in response. “Answer me.”

It was tempting, to follow Axel’s lead and _properly_ kiss Saïx, however Marluxia doubted Seven would receive his advances as… enthusiastically. And yet, it would be discourteous to ignore his comrade’s request.

Marluxia licked his lips, and stepped towards his so-called ‘Superior.’

“Axel sends his regards.”


	4. shackles [xaldin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part takes place during the KHII prologue, immediately following the scene between Xemnas, Xaldin, and Axel in the Room Where Nothing Gathers.

“Yo, Xaldin!”

Grunting, the Lancer turned to Axel, who was languidly ambling towards him. The redhead’s hips swayed provocatively, much to Xaldin’s displeasure. While Axel’s…  _ flirtations _ were well-known in the Organization (and indeed  _ involved _ several of their fellow members), Xaldin was unimpressed by the coquettish fire-wielder. His Other had forsaken human emotions, and as a Nobody Xaldin abhorred how Axel allowed his memories of  _ feeling _ to control him. Worse yet, he encouraged such behavior among the others. Privately, Xaldin hoped Xemnas would follow through on his threat and reduce Number VIII into a dusk. Perhaps  _ then _ he’d be of some use.

To his displeasure, Axel appeared at Xaldin’s side. “Mind if we have a chat?” the redhead asked, tone insincere. 

“Whatever for?” Xaldin asked. “The orders could not be clearer.”

“About that—” Suddenly, Xaldin was pinned against a wall, twin chakrams tearing through his coat and pinning his arms to his side. “Man, it sure got tense in there. I thought we might  _ clear the air _ , so to speak.” Axel smirked, gleaming green eyes like poison. “After all, there’s so few of us left.”

A curious sensation swelled in Xaldin’s chest. “Impudent fool!” The metal chakrams seared his skin where they trapped him. “Release me at once, or—”

Axel’s hand, blistering even through leather gloves, covered Xaldin’s mouth and muffled his feigned outrage.

“Bet you never thought it’d come to this,” Axel said casually, as if he hadn’t just assaulted his superior. He looked at Xaldin, and were it not  _ impossible _ the Lancer would think Axel was enjoying himself. “You’re the last of Ansem’s apprentices. Well,” he laughed, soft and deadly. “The ones that counted, at least. Me, Isa, and Braig never made the cut, did we?”

The unnerving sensation within him grew, and Xaldin’s eyes narrowed at the smirking Nobody. It seemed not even he was immune from the chaotic maelstrom of false emotion Axel created. For the first time, Xaldin  _ felt _ … anger. It was above Axel’s station to speak of their former colleagues.

Unperturbed, Axel leaned closer. When he exhaled, Xaldin smelled smoke. “Do you ever stop and wonder what happened to them?”

Although Xaldin felt no more for Numbers Four, Five, and Six than he did for any other Organization member, he had read Axel’s report nevertheless. Number Eight had been dispatched to Castle Oblivion to find and dispose of the traitors in their midst, yet due to Axel’s inexcusable laziness and incompetence the mission was an absolute failure. Marluxia and Larxene had blamed Vexen for Naminé’s escape, for which he was destroyed. Lexaeus and Zexion had been felled by the dark’s chosen, and the keyblade wielder had annihilated the traitors, Larxene and Marluxia. Axel was the sole survivor, although Xaldin suspected it was Saïx’s intervention that spared Axel his rightful punishment.

“It still bugs me,” Axel said. “Lexaeus, I understand. We’ve got a bad habit of underestimating keyblade wielders around here.” If he could, Xaldin might’ve scoffed. The keyblade’s chosen were mere children, and undeserving of the weapons they’d been gifted. “But Vexen? Not like him to let his guard down, if you know what I mean.”

Xaldin felt his arms and face blister from the scalding heat. Even dulled, the pain was great. The thought occurred to Xaldin, if Axel meant to eliminate him—and if he had done so before.

“And Zexion. For someone who knew so much, how’d Riku manage to slip past his defenses?” Axel tilted his head and pressed a finger to his lips, exaggerating a thinking pose. “Somethin’ just doesn’t quite add up, don’t you agree?”

_ Why do you hesitate? You, who has been so ruthless towards those who turned their backs on the Organization. _ Xaldin’s own words, spoken not ten minutes earlier. As Xaldin’s eyes widened with realization, the assassin smiled.  _ The assassin.  _

“Oh well, I guess we’ll never know,” he sighed. Axel stepped back, and his chakrams faded to ash and embers. Xaldin fell to his knees, arms and face red. Stinging. From this position, Xaldin had no choice but to  _ look up _ at Axel, whose chakrams re-materialized in his hands. 

But Axel was not looking down at Xaldin, or at him at all. Instead, he held his chakrams out in front of him. For once, Axel was as expressionless as a proper Nobody ought to be. “You know, I just remembered something Lexaeus told me a long, long time ago. ‘A weapon does not question it’s master’s demands. It does what it’s told to do.’” 

Slowly, Xaldin stood. “A broken weapon serves no purpose,” he said. Axel frowned, eyes still trained on his chakrams. “You have your orders. Fail, and the consequences will be severe.”

Wisps of steam rose from Axel’s fingers, and again Xaldin wondered if the assassin meant to strike him down. But Xaldin was unaffected; he had quelled the anger Axel’s actions had wrought. Just as the winds fanned the flames, so too did Xaldin temper Axel. When the younger Nobody at last looked up, his green eyes were dim. 

“Glad we had this little chat,” Axel said. He smirked, a false gesture. “But as you know, orders are orders. I’d  _ hate _ it if my superiors thought I didn’t have what it takes to—” his eyes narrowed, and his smile twisted, “—do what needs to be done.” With a parting wave, Axel disappeared into a dark corridor, hips swaying. Carefree and loose. A lie, but that’s all Axel seemed to be. Lies.

Xaldin folded his arms, heedless of burnt, blistered skin. In another life, it would have been laughable.  _ Emotion. Friendship. Bonds.  _ All of them, fervid chains that brought weakness and naïveté. His Other had been wise to cast his heart aside, and Number Eight was a fool for believing his old life had any bearing on what came after.

The shackles of emotion. Xaldin hoped Axel choked on his.


	5. ten. fifteen. twenty-six. [axel]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part takes place during KHII, right before Axel meets Kairi in the Destiny Islands. [past AkuSai, LeaIsa]

Like all Worlds in-between, Traverse Town was shrouded in darkness. Yet unlike the World he’d left behind, its denizens flocked to the light and whatever feeble protection it afforded them. 

Protection, Axel guessed, from fiends like him. He watched them from the shadows, and wondered how many of them were here because of him. Their Worlds, fallen to darkness  _ because of him _ . 

_ Something _ stirred in his chest, a small flicker that somebody else might’ve missed, except Axel wasn’t a Somebody, was he? No chance he’d miss it, that tiny spark of restlessness and exhaustion. It had been nearly a decade— _ ten years _ —since Axel felt so… adrift. Since he’d felt  _ anything _ at all, really. Too bad it wasn’t one of the nicer emotions he remembered, like happiness or hope, but Axel had learned to roll with the punches long ago.

Still, Axel wondered if Roxas had felt the same after he left the Organization, too. Confused and alone. Wherever he’d gone, it hadn’t taken the imposter long to find him and steal all his memories before dumping him in that simulated Twilight Town. Axel knew it was only a matter of time before they started looking for him, too. 

A door, its hinges creaking with rust and disuse, slowly opened a few meters ahead and to the right of Axel. The assassin tensed, but when no one emerged he crept closer. The room was dingy yet empty, a bed made with moth-eaten quilts in the corner and a small sink and vanity on the opposite wall. It wasn’t much, but it was warm. 

Axel locked the door behind him, senseless muscle memory. No door, no matter how solid, would keep the darkness from creeping inside. “Won’t be long now,” Axel said, just for the sake of hearing his own voice. Again, he moved without thinking, mind and body going through the motions as if this was just another mission.

_ You will be Our shadow,  _ Xemnas had said, a lifetime ago.  _ A herald of the coming darkness. _

_ Let no one see you,  _ Saïx had whispered against his lips.  _ No one, except me. Lea.  _

Axel bent over the sink, his fingers curling around its porcelain edge as he looked into his own reflection. A tired, pallid-looking man with wild, unkempt red hair returned his gaze. He was thin, almost  _ too _ thin, although Axel couldn’t remember if he’d always been like that. Couldn’t remember the last time he looked at himself, really  _ looked _ at himself.

The spark flared, a dull ache in his chest. It was an emotion, Axel was  _ sure  _ it was,  _ but which one?  _ Axel remembered being human, but not what it had  _ felt _ like. Did his Other… had  _ Lea _ ever felt like this? Lea died when he was fifteen, but before that— _ before Axel _ —he remembered... laughter. Smiles. Warm affection and broken promises. 

_ Isa. _

Axel let his head hang, his shoulders hunched. No, he didn’t think Lea had ever felt quite like  _ this _ . He’d been a weird, happy kid. Axel wondered if he  _ could _ , if he would be jealous of Roxas and— wait? ( _ who? _ ) No, just Roxas, who didn’t remember Sora at all. Would Axel be better to forget Lea, to let the ghost of his past fade away, untainted by all the blood and lies? 

And while he was at it, why not give up,  _ give in _ , and return to the castle? To  _ them _ ? Perhaps Xemnas’s threat was as empty as everything else in their nonexistence. 

_ A broken weapon serves no purpose.  _ Xaldin’s words lingered, as if carried by the winds that made up his element. “I can’t go back,” Axel told himself. Just like Roxas. And just like Roxas, Axel could hide in plain sight, get lost in the sea of Worldless miscreants. Another mission, after all. His last. 

“Need new threads,” Axel said as he shrugged off his coat and gloves, only for his arms to immediately prickle with goosebumps. The room wasn’t even cold, however Axel couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken off the coat. The magic woven into the material was adaptable, but here, in a World full of travelers Axel himself led astray, it was a hazard. Too recognizable, and besides, he could risk one,  _ maybe _ two corridors without it. No problem.

But his marks? Those  _ were _ a problem. A tall redhead was nothing special, but  _ anyone _ would remember a guy sporting purple teardrop tattoos. Axel rifled through the vanity’s drawers, looking for anything that could help. A bit of string, enough to tie his hair back. An assortment of lotions and soaps, useless. Some make-up, left behind by a previous occupant. 

Sighing, Axel picked through the miscellany; if nothing else, he could fix his own kohl-smudged eyes. Buried amid the various powders, liners, and brushes was a small bottle labelled “concealer.” Curious, Axel poured the oily cream onto his fingers. It was a shade or two darker than his own ashy complexion, but—“it must be called ‘concealer’ for a reason,” Axel said, applying a thick layer on his entire face. He set the cream with some powder, then fixed his eyeliner without pausing to take it all in until he was finished and—

Bright green eyes, shorter layers of wild red hair framing his angular features. No marks. 

“That’s… me,” he whispered, voice hoarse. With trembling fingers, he reached out to the man in the mirror; in its reflected surface, it looked like his reflection was reaching, too. 

_ Lea.  _

He’d never thought about it, what he’d be if not  _ Axel _ . In his memories, Axel’s Somebody was forever fifteen. Back when he and Saïx ( _ Isa _ ) were still friends, the older Nobody would talk endlessly about getting their hearts back, and whenever Axel spared a thought for what that might be like he’d figured… that’s what they’d go back to. Fifteen. Happy.  _ Alive.  _

Axel pulled his hand back, and watched as the doppelgänger traced his fingers over cheeks and jawline. Lips. 

If Lea were still alive, he’d be twenty-six years old. 

“My name is… Lea.” Axel frowned. Unsurprisingly, hearing his Other’s name in his own voice was just as off-putting as when Saïx said it. Yet he repeated it, eyes intent on his reflection. 

“My name is Lea.” It was easier, Axel realized, to pretend it was  _ Lea’s _ voice he heard. Then again, that’s what made Axel such a convincing liar, the secret Luxord never got from him. 

The best lies are the ones that even  _ you _ believe to be true. 

“My name is Lea, and I’m from Radiant Garden.” Rumor had it several Gardenites survived The Fall and tumbled into Traverse Town. Maybe someone might even recognize him, give him a solid alibi in case someone from one of the Worlds he’d brought into darkness asked too many questions. “I’m twenty-six, and I have three—” Axel shook his head. What was  _ wrong _ with him? “— _ two _ best friends.”

In the mirror, Lea cocked his head. “Well, to be honest with ya, I don’t know what the deal with Isa— I mean, Saï—  _ damn it _ .” Axel braced himself on the sink, and Lea looked annoyed. “Makes sense,” Axel grumbled. “Not even  _ Marluxia _ was this bad.” Sighing, Axel pushed himself back up. 

Axel found his line in the script, and Lea’s arms crossed. 

“Long story short, we were together so long I don’t actually know who I am without him— Wait,  _ what?! _ ” Axel spun away, huffing an exaggerated breath as he tried to sort out his… feelings. He couldn’t look at  _ Lea _ , because if he did then he’d be forced to think about  _ Isa _ and—

“He changed. We both did,” Axel whispered, unable to stop the story— _ Lea’s story _ —from spilling past his lips. “Part of me wants to go back to how it was before, just like he wants.” Before, like it was for Lea and Isa. Teenagers in love, except now they’d be adults.  _ Lovers _ . Maybe more; ten years was a long time. Maybe Isa would have asked Lea to marry him. Maybe Lea would have said yes.  _ Maybe, maybe not.  _

Suddenly, Axel’s eyes were stinging, hot and itchy. Unfamiliar with the sensation, Axel turned back to the mirror, where  _ of course _ Lea waited for him. He looked upset. Axel… thought he understood why. “But I can’t go back to how it was before, not now that I remember what it’s like to—” the odd burning sensation built “—to  _ care _ .”

Roxas and— “Roxas taught me that. It doesn’t matter if we have hearts or not, we can still make connections. All Saïx cares about is the past, but I want a future. I… I w-want…”

The spark in his hollow chest erupted, and as it did Axel clenched his eyes shut. A tickling sensation on his cheeks. His throat ached. 

“I want my heart back.”

Axel opened his eyes, and Lea was crying. Except,  _ Lea _ wasn’t real, was he? Through bleary, tear-filled eyes Axel could see his marks as the make-up smeared and ran down his face. 

_ Upside-down tears,  _ Isa had said.  _ To keep you from crying.  _

“Too late,” Axel murmured, reaching for the faucet. The water was tepid, but it did the job well enough; when Axel looked up again, he saw  _ himself _ again, tattoos and all. Lea was long gone, same as Isa. They could  _ never _ go back.

But— “Roxas.” His best friend, the only one Axel had left. When he’d left Naminé and Riku, they’d told him Roxas had returned to Sora. No doubt the Organization was after him by now; without Roxas, they would need Sora to complete Kingdom Hearts.

As suddenly as they’d started, his tears stopped.

_ I’ll always be there to bring you back. _

Axel smirked as an idea, too loose and vague to be called a ‘plan,’ struck him. Sora’s heart, that was the key—to undermining the Organization, as well as bringing Roxas back. He grabbed his coat, and slid his hands into worn leather gloves. Let Saïx come. Axel was through playing the good little soldier. 

Axel wasn’t lost—in fact his path had never been clearer. He summoned a dark corridor. The dingy room grew dim as the darkness spread.

“I’m comin’, Roxas.” Axel laughed, a harsh, broken sound. No more running. No more waiting. Maybe it wasn’t so hopeless, after all. 

But first, he was going to need a princess.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, replies, and RTs are all greatly appreciated! I'd love to know your thoughts!
> 
> Follow me [@ radovanryn on twitter](https://twitter.com/radovanryn) for fic previews, drabbles, and stories unavailable on AO3. Questions? Ask me [@ radovanryn on curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/radovanryn). And as always, thank you for reading! <3


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